


Feathers

by yersifanel



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Star Trek - Freeform, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yersifanel/pseuds/yersifanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Chief could have been less cryptic about it and just said: Hey! Now you're able to see the physical embodiment of the wings on other people! Remember that wings' appearance is considered to be a reflection of the state of a person's soul. Good luck with that!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers

**Author's Note:**

> Note I: Not beta read, I apologize for any mistake you most likely may find.  
> Note II: Written for [this prompt](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=604575) at the STID Kink Meme. I took liberties with the pairing, so I apologize to the OP about that. I couldn’t help it.

(I.)

It was an accident, it really was. 

Many people would say that the development of his brand new skill was consequence of his reckless actions - if they knew, that's it - but Jim knew better. It had been an accident, that was his story and he was sticking to it. Besides, big mystical archways that can change your "perception" of the living things should have warnings, anyone could accidentally walk through them, it didn't matter that said archways were in a sanctum of a far too much mumbo jumbo related planet.

Honestly, it wasn't his fault.

But anyway, the point was that thanks to that accident – because that was it, thank you very much – he was now able to 'see the arms that hold the Soul', or so had put it the Chief from the local population of said mumbo jumbo related planet. The Chief could have been less cryptic about it and just said 'Hey! Now you're able to see the physical embodiment of the wings on other people! Remember that wings' appearance is considered to be a reflection of the state of a person's soul. Good luck with that!' 

Wings... he could see people's not-so-metaphorical wings and it was freaking him out.

He kept this to himself, so when his crew found him, they were far more concern with his physical injuries to notice the way he was staring pass their shoulders and gaping like a fish. Spock noticed the Chief's satisfactory grin and made several remarks about it, but Jim avoided the topic and thank God Spock let it go.

Chief said it was permanent and Jim was in denial, but after several days and no changes, he just gave up… might as well learn to live with it.

So, wings... yeah, that was strange and fascinating at the same time.

His own wings were large and white with a very soft silver sparkle. They puffed when he was angry and wrapped around himself when he was feeling down. In conclusion, wings were freaking taletellers and he was so glad people couldn't see his own because they made him more of an open book than he already was.

Watching other people's wings thought? That was far more interesting that watching his own.

Spock's wings were dark gold with slivers of black, not as large as Jim's and a little shaggy; as if he had been changing feathers... and Jim would shamelessly stare at them most of the time.

He couldn't help it, really. Spock's wings were more emphatic and communicative than Spock himself!

For example, Spock would be giving a lecture on the mission with his plain monotone voice, all calm and controlled, yet his wings would tremble and shake constantly, especially when he was addressing danger towards the crew, and whenever Nyota was mentioned they would flap. Actually, they were very expressive whenever Nyota was involved, not to mention when they were close. Spock would be standing close to Nyota and his wings would wrap her immediately, even if in physical plain they were not touching.

Jim thought it was adorable and giggle several times when he witness it happen, owing and odd stare from Spock.

Nyota's wings on the other hand were a lovely shade of purple with slivers of white. Her wingspan was similar to Spock's, but her feathers were not shaggy, only a little disarranged at times... and Jim tried to avoid being near them. 

It was nothing personal. He loved Nyota, she was his friend, but her wings were mean. Nyota could be calm and still but her wing would be puffed and lash at any given second, reacting harshly, especially when she was annoyed. He had to duck more than once to avoid being hit by the lovely purple wings, making Nyota even angrier in the process, because he had no idea why Jim was acting so weird. 

He was learning a lot from his crew by watching their wings, but sometimes it felt like he was an intruder, watching something far too personal of them, something that was normally hidden for a reason...

 

(II.)

He didn't know what he was expecting Leonard's wings to be, but this was not it.

They were large, larger than Jim's and they looked very strong... but the mixture of dull grey and light green of the feathers was strange. He noted that sometimes the dull grey would look a little brighter, changing into white, but not for long and that conflicted Jim to no end, because his best friend looked fine, but it seemed his soul was a different story.

They were working on paperwork regarding the mission when Bones' got a call and Jim had to stop himself from flinching when he noted the grey and green wings wrapping around his friend, making the grey even duller and the green change to a sickening color. He was unable to hear the call, but when his friend came back, smiling bitterly and thumbing the comm sadly, he had an idea of what was about.

"Nothing but my bones," He said. "Even today, that relationship left me nothing but my bones."

The patter continued and Jim couldn't let it happen, because those dull and sick colors were just wrong. He spend more time with his friend and frequently bullied him into have fun with the crew. He encouraged him into continue with some medical research he had been excited about a few months before and another number of things. He was literally over him most of the time and Bones noticed but didn't exactly mind. 

Jim was sure about the changing colors when one day the dull grey of Bones' wings changed to black, comfortably setting along two shades of green. He knew black was not a bad color, it could mean many things from good to bad, but it was not a bad color in itself and it was much better than that dull dying grey.

Now Bones seemed more relaxed and the melancholy in his eyes was lesser than before. His laughs were genuine and his wings were not in a constant tense state anymore.

Jim didn't know what had happened during the days Bones left the city, but whatever it was, he had come to terms with it and it had reflected in his soul, therefore in his wings.

His friend was going to be fine and that was all that matter.

It was after this incident that Jim was sure he was an intruder, watching the struggle of someone's soul without permission and that made him feel uncomfortable. Now the words of the Chief made more sense, those words of warning and advice that seeing what defined a person was a privilege and he had to respect it.

He didn’t notice his own wings were spotting dull grey feathers that day. 

 

(III.)

There was only one way to describe Chekov's wings: Scarlet Macaw.

Brig blue, yellow and red feathers arranged in harmony with a wingspan fitting perfectly for his height and soft but strong looking feathers, Chekov's wings were as expressive as their owner; they would puff and shiver when he was exited and lower and trembled when he was in turmoil. They were never totally still and flapped every time Chekov smiled and that always cheered Jim up.

The young genius was in constant motion always working on something and his wings would never be still. More than once Jim honestly thought the kid would just flap them and fly high, maybe he was not that wrong in this thought.

Chekov was flying, metaphorically, and the way his wings showed this was proof enough. What was even better was the fact that he would fly but someone was always there to catch him in case he fell, right now that someone was Scotty.

Feather of several shades of brown, white and black, Scotty's wings remained Jim of a sparrow. It was fun to see them, because they always flap and shiver, plain expressing Scotty's mood and setting around Chekov like the guide he was for the young prodigy. 

Sulu was another interesting case; his wings were a soft cream color, like the color of oysters, with an arranged set of bright grey feathers. They rested comfortable around him most of the time, but never hiding him. When they were having fun, they wing would unfold and shiver with the good mood, and when there was trouble, they would shield others around him.

He continued to observe and was happy to found that his crew was very dedicated to each other; they were his family was much as he was theirs.

He didn't feel so much of an intruded anymore.

Time passed and he got comfortable with his 'gift', even when at times he still felt bad watching such an intimate reflection of those around him in the form of wings...

 

(IV.)

He shouldn't interfere, he knew that. Whatever turmoil the man across the street near the Starfleet Headquarters had was not his problem... but he couldn't help it.

Jim approached very slowly, as if he was not intentionally getting closer to the tall brunette but just casually walking near him. He had to bite back a gasp and force himself to not flee once he got a better look at what he was looking for, because he had never seen something like this:

Butchered wings, falling feathers and dull, sickening colors, almost translucent; this person's soul was shattered and Jim couldn't walk away, he just couldn't.

"Can I help you, Captain?" The deep baritone voice took him out of his stupor and he stood face to face with this stranger wearing the Starfleet uniform; pale skin, dark hair, bright blue eyes and British accent. He wondered how this man knew his rank and then remembered he was wearing his own uniform, as the man before him was wearing a Starfleet uniform as well.

"I'm afraid we haven't met..." Kirk spoke slowly, "James T. Kirk, nice to meet you."

He offered his hand and the man hesitated only a second before taking it. He looked at him in the eye as he spoke, "John Harrison."

Something was wrong with that name, because if not then why a few feathers fell, pooling at his feet only to turn into dust and fade a second later as he said it?

"You're not from here, are you?" Jim stepped closer almost absentmindedly, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes drifting between John's and the wrecked wings behind him, "I can show you around."

"That won't be necessary, I assure y—"

"I insist."

John gave him an odd look, but Jim didn't care. Not when the nagging feeling of 'wrong' and 'do something!' wouldn't be leave him alone.

"If you must..." John sounded a annoyed, but Jim got him to come with him, that much was a little victory, he could talk to him now, find out more... even if glancing at the broken wings made him flinch.

It took all of Jim's skills to get John to talk, it was very obvious that the man was not happy being dragged around San Francisco by James Kirk, but allowed it anyway.

John Harrison, English Starfleet commander working in R&D at London's base, visiting San Francisco as part of the research plans.

All this were working details, they didn't tell Jim enough. Actually, they told him almost nothing. The name was fake, he was 99.9% sure, but since he had no other to identify him with, he went along with it. He also knew John was not exactly laying about the rest of the given info, just not telling him the whole truth. He had to settle with so much for now, Jim was already pushing, but he didn't want to taunt his luck and drive John away.

Time went by, Jim was doing most of the talking, but John was speaking as well, much more than before at least.

By the end of the night, Jim took John to the hotel he was staying and when John was about to walk away, Jim's wings blocked the way. John stopped inches from Jim's wings, he looked unsure of why he came to a halt, as Jim knew he John couldn't see the wings blocking his path. John stood there for a moment, slowly clenching and unclenching his fists while in deep thought, after a long pause he looked at Jim over his shoulder.

"Would you like to share a drink with me?" John asked, looking unsure still. "There's a mini-bar I'm not really using."

Jim smiled and took the invitation as a small victory.

 

(V.)

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. John went back to London, but they kept in touch and arranged to visit each other when possible.

Jim almost squealed in delight when he visited him in London, noticing that John's right wind was not hunched and so hurt looking anymore. He had to remain himself to keep his hands still and not try to reach and touch the not-so-ethereal appendage; it could be too much for both of them, to directly touch the wings. He wanted to touch them not because of curiosity, but because he had troubles ignoring them and didn't like the way they move, hurting and aching.

John tended to violently stir his wings when he was upset and tense. It gave Jim the impression that he was hurting himself even more by doing so. One day, after a particular violent outburst, when John seemed to have a very poor day, Jim didn't think twice before using his own wings to touch and calm John's. The effect was immediate; John shudder and his knees almost gave out, prompting Jim to catch him and guide him towards the couch.

"It's gonna be ok, " he soothed, but John gave him a pained laugh.

"You don't even know what's wrong!"

Jim's wings shifted and moved to wrap them around John, making the brunette sigh, "Whatever it is, I'll help... come on John, let me help you."

John closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Jim's shoulder. The silence stretched for a long time before John's muffled voice broke it.

"My name's not John," he confessed in a small but firm voice.

Jim hesitated for a second, "Can I know your real name?"

"Khan," he shifted to look at Jim in the eye, "My name is Khan."

What follow were a series of confessions, whole truths and bitter tears. Jim held Khan close to him with his wings wrapped around the other man, not noticing how Khan's wrecked wings wrapped around the young Captain on their own.

 

(VI.)

Christopher Pike was like a father to Jim. He was a man he could trust with his life and said it so to Khan when upon suggesting to ask Pike for help the man refused. Khan was not so convinced, but he feared for the safety of his crew so he agreed to Jim's alternative.

The world Khan knew was long gone; he only had a philosophy that was obsolete, for humans proved to be not so inferior anymore and augmented beings like him were not the ones at wrong for being what they are, but equal in chance and right. Khan was used to savages; he had knowledge of savagism himself and when Marcus woke him up to use him he thought the worlds had not changed at all... He was wrong. 

Not all were like Marcus, and savages were not a majority. Jim proved him that much. 

Maybe this was the world his people waited for centuries to find once their long sleep came to an end. Maybe this was the reason he had to stand and suffer in order to retrieve them and give them a chance to see this world. His crew was his family... he had to protect them.

Jim understood that, his crew was his family too after all.

Khan agreed to speak with the Admiral and did so with as much sincerity he could must for a stranger, at least until Jim encouraged him to speak more freely. Jim trusted this man... he may as well give him a change.

Upon hearing the situation, Christopher visibly tensed, his strong brown and white wings shifting every now and then. He had been suspicious of some underground activity going on in Starfleet for a while now, but if Khan's words were truth then the situation was more complicated than Christopher had anticipated.

"Are you feeling well, son?" 

The admiral’s voice sounded distant and muffled. Khan's head felt as if was wrapped in cotton and Jim was looking between him and the floor with fear in his eyes, a fear Khan couldn't comprehend.

"There are going to be... consequences... because of my desert."

"We're going to help you."

"Hum...."

The situation had to be properly investigated and Khan gave Christopher all the information and access codes he possessed. Khan didn't know if such codes were still useful but he gave them up anyway. He was reluctant and some part of him was expected to be betrayed at any given second. The last thing he expected was for Admiral Pike to order Jim to take Khan as part of his crew in their upcoming mission.

"It's safer for you this way," Admiral Pike pointed out, "I have a bad feeling about what can be done to prevent you from spreading the information you just gave me."

Jim didn't give Khan to react; he accepted the instructions immediately and guided Khan outside the building.

Khan was looking paler by the second and Jim had a bad feeling about that, not to mention that the feathers of Khan's wings were falling by the second, pooling around his feet and dissolving faster than ever before.

He contacted Spock and Bones, because this situation was out of his hands and Khan needed all the help he could get. 

There was a horrible twisted sound, like bones breaking and Khan's soft groan before the augmented human hit the floor, shattered wings falling over his prompt form and dusty feathers spread around him.

 

(VII.)

"He's going to be fine, Jim, honestly." 

Bones lost counts of how many times he had said that phrase in the last two hours. The trip to the planet they were to explore was going smoothly; the only downside was the unconscious man laying on a bed of his med bay with a very worried Jim Kirk hovering over him.

"But, he collapsed out of nowhere!"

"No, he was poisoned," Bones held a very small device between his thumb and index finger, "This thing was releasing a substance that could have killed you or me really fast, but he tolerated, you brought him here on time."

The dammed thing had been implanted in the back of Khan's neck and Bones found it by prompt acting and a share of luck. Jim was happy that Bones was taking care of Khan, but he was still worried sick because Khan's wings were nearly broken.

"Jim," Bones was giving him a look, his eyes trailing from Khan to Jim, "This guy? Really?"

He narrowed his eyes at his friend, folding his arms over his chest defensively, "What?"

"This is the guy that has you all head over heels? I didn't know tall dark and mysterious was your type." Bones was not even making an effort to hide his grin.

"Wha-? Hey!"

"Go back to the bridge, Jim. I'll take care of your object of interest," Bones rolled his eyes, "Currently my patient, now shoo, get out of my med bay!"

He wanted to argue with Bones but decided to leave it for now, knowing Khan was in good hands. Jim could concentrate in other things, like the mission they were currently on, to start with.

The mission, right.

Jim took a deep breath and went back to the bridge. He had a ship to command and a crew counting on him. He didn't do it without glancing back a couple of times, though.

 

(VIII.)

Admiral Marcus was detained, charged with treason and faced with a very long trial. More people than Jim imagine were involved in the project, but few knew Marcus' real intentions or the extent of his ambition. 

The Federation kept Khan's identity as a secret as well as his crew's for their own protection, but still used his testimony under the name of John Harrison, an agent who had been blackmailed into cooperate under the threat of his family's safety.

Still, there were considerable downsides in the outcome to the Marcus' last actions. He was stopped in time to prevent a war, but not enough to stop him from harming Khan's crew.

The cryo tubes were damaged, making the risk of killing the person within up to 80% upon waking up. The Federation was already working on fix the damage but in the meantime there was nothing else that could be done. The odds were against them and Federation would not risk waking up the augmented if that meant killing them.

Khan took this with resigned acceptance... He wanted his family back, but he won't risk their lives for his own need of company... at least they were alive, he told himself, at least they were safe.

But he wasn't truly alone and Jim made sure to spell it out for him as much as he could.

Changes were made and actions were taken. 'John Harrison' was transferred and The Enterprise gain a new weapons specialist for the science division and Jim got to have Khan by his side. 

Khan's integration with the crew took some time, mostly because the augment kept much to himself, only allowing Jim to get closer at first. Chekov was the one that broke that patter by asking question after question and generally just being himself. He was the one that managed to make Khan smile and Sulu teased him merciless about it for a week.

Spock and Khan got into the strangest friendship Jim had ever seen. They respected each other and valued the other's input, especially in science related matters, but when they were fighting it scared everyone on board because they were so damn polite about it! Jim didn't know it was possible to insult someone without even using a derogatory term, how Spock and Khan managed was beyond him. What truly matter to Jim was the fact that Khan looked better and his broken wings were healing.

Small steps.

 

(IX.)

One day, out of nowhere, Jim couldn't see Khan's wings anymore... and it panicked him.

"Are you ok?" He kept asking and Khan raised an eyebrow.

"I am well, as I was an hour ago, Captain." Khan answered with hidden amusement in his voice that did nothing to sooth Jim because damn it, where were Khan's wings?!

"If something was wrong, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"

Khan gave him an even look, lowering his voice to shield the conversation from the curious ears of his fellow scientist, "You know that I would, Jim."

They had an honest relationship, it worked and Bones was a merciless teaser about it because this was James T. Kirk, settling down with a 300 year old super-human of all people, Bones was never letting go of that one. That was fine by Jim, what was not fine was the fact that he could not see Khan's wings anymore, not okay, do not want!

"But... your wi—" Jim coughed, remembering he is not suppose to see or know about the wings.

"Yes?"

"No, no, forget it, I'm just being silly."

"James..."

"Honestly!"

"Now you're the one who is not telling me something," Kahn pointed out and Jim bit his lip.

"Maybe we should talk about this later..." Jim did notice the odd looks the crew members around them were giving them and Spock just entered the room with the intention of approaching them.

Khan didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway, "As you wish."

Jim turned around, ignoring Spock's dark gold wings and did his best to pretend he didn't see all the beautiful colors of his crew... because one was missing.

Once the shift was over they talked and shared their affection, but at the end he still couldn't see Khan's wings and no matter how much he kissed the man into oblivion, he missed the sing of the broken but in healing process wings.

Maybe the 'gift' was starting to fade.

Jim tried to not be sad about it.

 

(X.)

Khan hauled the sheets to cover his body, sitting on the bed to look down at Jim, who was staring at the ceiling with far more interest than towards him.

"James."

"Huhmm?"

"James, look at me."

"What?"

Khan made an exasperated sound "You have not look at me in the eye in days, not even when we sleep together, I want to know why."

Jim closed his eyes, obvious guilt reflected in his features and Khan felt something stir inside him, something he didn't like. 

"I just..."

"Have I wronged you?" 

"What? No!"

"Then, what is the problem?" Khan hissed, he was getting angry. "Don't be dishonest with me."

"You wouldn't understand, is just... I'm so sorry, is just that..." Jim sat up and took a deep breath, "I can't see your wings anymore and that... I miss seeing them."

"My... wings?"

"See? I'm being an idiot!" Jim pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, "I got this weird ability to see 'wings' on people when I stupidly messed up with an alien artifact and... I'm not making sense, am I?"

He felt Khan's hands on his face, gently pushing his hands away. Jim kept his gaze lowered, until he heard Khan chuckled.

There was a rustling sound and then a pair of beautiful wings unfolded from behind Khan's back. Jim stared at them, for they finally were healed and the feathers had color.

"Gunmetal blue," Jim whispered, "Their color."

"White with silver sparkles," Khan replied, "Yours."

He reached for the blue feathers and stopped in his tracks, looking at Khan in the eye, "You can see them too."

"I was scientifically messed up with a very long time ago, this happened to be one of the unexpected results," He shrugged, "I never gave it much thought."

Jim struggled with this new information, "You never said a thing... not even when I used my wings to stop you from walking away the day we meet."

"I precisely didn't walk away because you blocked my way with them." Khan closed his eyes, "Most people have no idea they sport this 'wings', so their actions are completely unconscious, completely raw, completely... honest. I didn't suspect anything of your actions because of this... it confused me, yes, but I believed you were being truthful, so I let it happen." Khan tilted his head to a side, "Even having knowledge of them, you were being honest, weren't you?"

"Yes!" Jim assured, "I was, I am." 

"Then...I'm glad."

Jim stared at him for a moment, remembering the many times he used his wings to keep Khan close and how the augmented had simply let it happen, not minding his own until a few days ago.

"Your wings... You never hid them before," Jim pointed out. "I could see them just fine until a week ago!"

"I folded them," Khan stated. "I... changed... and the wings reflected the transition and I was... conflicted... about the change so I folded them to not think about it."

"No one folds their wings," Jim mumbled, "No one hides them."

"They don't know how," Khan pressed his forehead against Jim's, "The way they looked before was an statement to me: how much I had lost and how important was to keep going... now I don't know what to think of them now."

"But they are gorgeous," Jim argued while motioning at them, "Strong and look at that wingspan! Also, the color is awesome."

"I hid them because I didn't like them." Khan pointed out, "I don't like what I cannot understand about myself."

"I like them, they fit you, and they are so very you."

Khan sighed, but there was a small on his lips, "I guess I can learn more about them... Weren't you going to touch them?"

Jim's smile could have lighted up the room. He ran his fingers over the soft gunmetal blue feathers and wrapped Khan in his own white wings.

"Don't hide them again, please."

"As you wish."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Gunmetal Blue Feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/838607) by [Joss_Sevon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joss_Sevon/pseuds/Joss_Sevon)




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